Freakshow
by UndiscoveredSpecies
Summary: Condemned as a monster. Displayed as an exhibit. Terrified for his life, he follows the one person who offers kindness...but how big a mistake was it to trust?
1. Chapter 1

**PROLOGUE**

 _Pain. Icy metal biting into my wrists and ankles, a massive ring around my waist to hold me in even should I gnaw my own limbs off. Clattering of chains as I yank and tug at my bonds. Raucous voices, exclaiming in horrified wonder. Brilliant flashes of contained lightning, blinding me. I open my mouth and give shrieking howls at those who come too close and for a time it works. For a time they race backward, grins turning upside down with fear as their tiny eyes bulge._

 _But then they come back in greater numbers than before._

 _Pain! I roar as the hot metal stick prods against the base of my spine and I throw myself against the chains with renewed vigor, trying to twist and bite the man who holds the stick. The smoke from the pointed, burning end blurs his face but I know that he smiles. Harsh moonlight stabbing my eyes as the tent doors flap open and shut. More people. Damned pups clutching their mothers' hands, faces masks of wonder at the sight of me._

 _The sight of me..._

 _The metal beneath my feet is slick with my sweat, my blood. The tears that fall when nobody sees me, rare as that is. My tail curls against the bars and rattles them. The man stabs me again with the stick and I howl, recoiling and drawing my tail close against my body. More lightning flashes. More eager and repulsed cries. I rattle my chains and scream again at the pups that get too close, watching their parents yank them backward and up into protective arms. Protective arms...my own arms are too sore from fighting. I let my legs relax and I fold slowly to the ground, pulling my limbs as close as the chains allow._

 _The crowd doesn't like this. They roar and beseech the man with the stick, and he touches the fire to the back of my neck. I scream, leap to my feet, and the dance begins all over again._


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER ONE**

Things are calm in the early morning. The creature laying immobile on the floor of the cage is large, much too large to be a lion, gorilla, or wolf. Blue skin is covered with dried blood, burns, dust, and small pieces of straw. Messy rows of jagged, self-inflicted scars line the creature's thin arms and legs. Enormous bat wings are pulled protectively over its head, nearly hiding the jutting vertebrae of a spine curling against the ragged hide of an emaciated body. A scaly tail is curled protectively around long-taloned feet. The flapping of canvas in the breeze just drowns out the sound of soft, hoarse whimpers.

It had been a terrible night. The freak show had premiered at midnight, but not even the supposed mermaid skeleton, the hairless bear, or the seven-foot man had attracted even a quarter of the crowd that flocked to the Blue Demon. The sight in the tent now, however, is worlds away from the howling fury of the darkness; the monster is nearly pitiable in its misery.

The demon's stomach growls and one of the thin, scarred arms snakes beneath the shelter of a wing to wrap around its abdomen. It hasn't eaten in days, if not weeks. The hunger makes it all the more ferocious and frightening; well-fed monsters rarely fight and roar like the crowd wants them to. But even monsters have to eat sometime; the man with the hot stick knows this and enters the tent, whistling loudly through the gap in his teeth. "Here, devil," he says carelessly, and tosses a few rib bones through the bars of the cage. He also knows that the appearance of picked-clean bones, scarred by sharp teeth, only adds to the fearful picture.

The bones bounce off the demon's wings and it gives another low moan, reaching from beneath the shelter of its scarred, torn appendages to grab at one of them, dragging it from view. The bones have barely a thread of meat on them, but those were vacuumed down without hesitation. A moment later a loud _crack_ splits the air and a long black tongue slurps hungrily at the marrow inside.

"Maybe we should call you the Blue Pig," the man says with a nasty grin. He picks up a pebble from the dirt floor of the tent and tosses it through the bars. The creature doesn't move. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" He throws another, bigger stone.

It lands squarely in the middle of the burn that the heated stick had left the night before. The demon gives a howl of pain and in a flare of wings, a flash of teeth, and a scramble of razor claws, it lunges at the bars with a shriek straight out of a nightmare. The man nearly jumps out of his skin, but he recovers quickly and laughs; the chains are too short to let the creature reach the bars, much less the person beyond. "Aww, is the poor demon stuuuuck?" He croons in an awful, baby-ish voice.

The demon picks up one of the rib bones and hurls it. It sails through the bars and cracks the man squarely across the scalp.

He howls, clapping his hands to his head in pain, before storming out of the tent. The demon knows what is coming and crawls as far from the entrance as it can, pulling weakly at the chains. When the man comes in, he is holding the hated, heated bar, and another instrument that makes the creature's blood run cold through its veins. It pulls its legs to its chest and wraps its wings and arms around itself, squeezing its eyes shut as tightly as it can. The demon can't see what the man is going to do, but it can feel it, and the horrible screams echo all through the circus.

 _They want me to scream. They want me to fight. They want me to yank at the chains and beat the air with my wings and show my fangs and give them their money's worth. But I can't. Not tonight. Not after what happened. Not after that man. So much blood. So much pain._

 _Can I die? Please? Anything would be better than this torment. The grating questions of those whelps and their mothers and fathers...oh, they hurt my ears so terribly. "Daddy, make it move!" "Mommy, what_ is _it?"_

 _It, it, it. I press my hands over my ears, folding them against my head. Make them go away. Please, please, please! I look at my wrists. I can't see the veins anymore underneath the thick scars. Perhaps tonight I can end it for real—I've always been tranquilized before I can finish. Please. If any gods or merciful beings are out there, let this misery end._

Another night passes. Another day trudges by. The Blue Demon's only company is the mice that scuttle in and out of the moldy straw piled in the corner of the cage. It watches them with dull-eyed unhappiness, all too aware of the sun sinking lower and lower in the sky. Nursing its wounds, it leans against the cold bars in an effort to draw the heat from its burns. Shadows creep across the floor and the creature closes its eyes, waiting for the crowds and the pain to come again.

Hours pass. Slowly, the creature opens one eye. There is absolutely nobody in the tent! It opens the other eye and raises its head. The tent is open, the flaps blowing serenely back and forth in the cool breeze. Where is everyone?

A silhouette slides across the ground and the creature shuts its eyes again, bracing itself for pain and noise.

 _Please, let it end quickly. Don't let it happen again. Please, please, please..._

"Hello there. How would you like to get out of that cage?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey there, lovelies. I'm really sorry I haven't updated this in a long time; this installment is regrettably a short one, but hopefully I'll be back to longer updates once I get current predicaments sorted out. ~Undiscovered**

Chapter Two

"Get…out…?" The creature in the cage speaks in a low, raspy voice, as though its vocal chords had been screamed raw. From the scars on its body, that _is_ a likely scenario.

"Yes," I say, "get out. Would you like to be free?"

"Free…" This Blue Demon raises its head, snarled and lank black hair hanging in matted curtains around its narrow, pointed face. Despite the high, razor cheekbones and sharp chin, the bloodstained fangs, the orange eyes that lock on mine are almost childlike with hope.

Very slowly, I crouch down so I'm at eye level with the Blue Demon. Chipped antlers catch the slivers of moonlight that slip through the untied tent flaps, casting long shadows across its face. "What's your name?"

The creature jabs a tail up at the sign nailed to the top of the cage.

"They call you the Blue Demon? All the time?"

A single, slow nod.

I extend a hand and I might as well have brandished a whip—the Blue Demon scrambles to the back of the cage, pressing itself against the blood-speckled bars, emaciated chest hitching with fright. "It's okay," I murmur, trying to hide the shocked tremor in my voice. The sudden movement had startled me, but showing that would be folly. I need the Blue Demon to trust me. Slowly, I remove my black leather glove and push my unveiled skin into the puddle of moonlight spilling onto the filthy hay.

A curious head-tilt, wary eyes flicking from my face to my hand and back again.

"I won't hurt you," I promise in a low voice, careful not to blink. "Are you hungry?"

Another slow nod.

"Come here," I invite, beckoning. "I'll get you out of there. You just have to trust me."

 _Trust. How monumental thing to ask of me! Does he not see the shining scars that create broken labyrinths on my skin? My broken antlers, the holes in my wings? But his eyes have none of the malice or wicked glee that the other man so readily displays. And the promise of food…if only he could come through, give me something besides broken bones and aging marrow…oh, if that could happen, I would do anything he requested. Anything._

Keeping my eyes on the Blue Demon's, I slide one hand into the pocket of my coat and pull out a small folding pocket knife. "Use this the next time the man comes with the stick," I say in a low voice. "I can't stay any longer tonight, but I will come back for you. I promise."

"Food?" The Blue Demon whispers, creeping toward me.

From my other pocket, I produce a plastic-wrapped sandwich that I had bought from a vendor earlier in the night. A bargaining chip. I slide it through the bars and give it a little pat, showing the Blue Demon that it's not a cruel joke. "I'll be back for you," I say. "Use the knife."


End file.
